Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: redragon@interserv.com
Subject: The Corner Office (sub/dom) - [by Jame]
Date: 9 Oct 1995 19:48:26 GMT

			  The Corner Office
				  by
				 Jame

	Jonathan Connors was one of the firm's most powerful junior
partners. His acceptance to the senior partner's board was considered
almost certain when Paul Irving retired next spring. Connors was a
tall, thin, hard faced man, who lived for the law, and the
manipulation of it.

	He had fought, clawed, and worked his way up to his present
position over the past twenty years with the firm, and saw no end in
sight to his manoeuvring and politicking. Though the infighting was
fierce among associates, it paled in comparison to the politicking
among junior partners, and that itself was nothing compared to the
infighting and back stabbing that took place among the senior
partners.

	Connors intended to chair the senior board one day, and
everything he did at the firm was aimed to advance his position
towards that goal. He was not proud of everything he had done to get
where he was, but had crushed too many men and ruined too many careers
to accept anything short of his goal.

	He was sitting in his large corner office, the room brightly
lit by the floor to ceiling glass walls, and gazing at the young
associate standing in front of him, contemplating how she could be of
use to him.

	The first way she could be of use was sex, obviously. Though
she stood there smiling demurely, she had made it more than clear that
her body was his if he so desired it. He did, in a way, but not in the
same way most men would have.

	Kayla Gardner was twenty eight, and had worked at the firm for
just four years as an associate. Since she was a top graduate of
Harvard Law school. Her rise up the unofficial rungs of the associates
ladder had been only little short of meteoric, a sign of a determined
person, and a person who knew how to fight for what she wanted and
wasn't too concerned with methods.

	Supposedly she was standing there before his oak desk to hear
his input on the case she was working on. He knew that wasn't true.
She was there so he could look at her, her and her expensive navy blue
business suit with its mini skirt that revealed just enough of her
exquisite thighs to excite, without bringing condemnation down on her
from the more conservative partners.

	Her blonde hair was perfectly brushed and combed, shoulder
length, swept across her forehead from left to right, beautiful
without looking like she'd spent a lot of time on it. Now, as always,
even the roots were golden, though he was reasonably sure she wasn't a
natural blonde.

	Her jacket was open, revealing her white silk shirt beneath,
and beneath that portion of the shirt visible, was the a outline that
was clearly a brassiere, colored black, or at least, a very dark
shade. That too, was meant to be seen.

	She had a beautiful face, slim, attractive, with a tiny snub
nose that was probably the work of plastic surgery. Her eyes were grey
blue this morning, so she was wearing the contacts which changed them
from their normal brown. Her chest pushed out firmly, leaving little
doubt that she was well built in all areas.

	She stood there straight backed, a respectful look on her
face, as though she was eager for any drops of pearly wisdom he
deigned provide her.

	She was undeniably beautiful, and undeniably ruthless, and
those two qualities could make her quite valuable to him in his
constant battles with the other partners. And then there was her
pride. One did not achieve what she had at such an early date without
an incredible amount of pride in oneself.

	And that was where he found her most attractive, for he knew
that for him, she would abandon all pride and dignity, grovel, beg, do
anything he wished, no matter how degrading. And power was what he
truly felt lust for, power over others.

	He held the power that would strip this proud, beautiful woman
naked and make her beg for his attentions, and that, that was what he
found arousing, exciting. Other men might have lusted after her body,
but it was the control of her mind, and the domination of her will
that excited Connors.

	He knew what she was after, of course. He was a rising star
and could pull her along with him. That was for the long term. For the
short term she was after the corner office on the sixty eighth floor
that had recently become vacant. All the senior associates were
manoeuvring towards it, for it brought prestige. It was a sign of
favour from on high, and thus brought with it a share of its own power
to be lorded over more junior associates.

	Doling out offices was too insignificant a job to interest the
senior partners. It held a lot of interest to junior partners who
wanted to influence those under them, and after a nasty fight Connors
had won the assignment last year. So it was he they all grovelled to.

	Kayla Garner was not the first of the female associates to
offer him her charms in exchange for it. But, provided she performed
properly, he decided that she would be the one to get it. He could
use an aide with her intelligence, her beauty, and her ruthlessness,
provided she didn't have anything unpleasant like ethics or morals
that would hinder her.

	He motioned her around the desk, his other hand under the
surface, flicking the button that locked the door. She smiled
inquiringly and came around to stand beside him. Connors looked up at
her with a knowing smile then reached for her wrist.

	He gripped it tightly, pulling her down to her knees as he
swivelled his leather executive chair around to face her. Her face
showed a little surprise but she did not fight him as he forced her to
her knees before him. He held her wrist tightly, squeezing it so he
knew it hurt her.

	She showed little sign of pain, though she swallowed several
times and seemed tense. He sniffed, then reached out with his free
hand and cupped her chin, lifting it upwards. She said nothing. He
slid his hand across her cheek and under her blonde hair, stroking her
neck and the side of her head.

	Then he pulled her hand against his crotch, rubbing it firmly
up and down against his groin. She reached for his belt, slowly undid
it, then pulled his zipper down. Her soft hands reached in and worked
his cock out. It was still soft, though beginning to harden as it felt
her fingers around it.

	He let go of her completely, sitting back in his chair and
eying her with a detached expression. He had no intention of clouding
his dominance of the woman with the thought that physical force was
what was compelling her to act. No, it was power that made her do what
she was about to do, power alone. He had no need of physical force.

	She gave him a sensuous look, then, holding his cock in both
her hands, she pushed her tongue far out and licked it up along the
underside, slowly, firmly. She did it again, then kissed the head. He
sat still, hands on the arms of his chair, watching without
expression.

	She slid her lips over the head and took it into her mouth,
rubbing the lower part of the shaft as she slid her lips down along
its length. She began sucking, softly at first. Her tongue rubbed
against the underside of his cockhead, stroking that most sensitive
part of his organ.

	It hardened within her mouth and she slid her hands off the
shaft, pushing his pants down a little to get at his balls. She cupped
them in her hands, massaging carefully as her lips slid up g shaft.
She let it slip free of her sensuous lips and rubbed the saliva coated
prick all over her face, moaning softly.

	It was an act, the moans, but a good one, and he gave her
credit for it. She bent forward again and sucked his cock up into her
mouth, bobbing her head up and down rapidly, her tongue sliding
against the underside. If she was nonplussed about his lack of
emotion, his failure to talk, she kept that to herself.

	Another point, he thought.

	She stopped sucking briefly, opening her lips and closing her
teeth around his cock just behind the head. She slid her mouth down
slowly, the teeth scratching lightly along his shaft, to give him
contrast when she sucked again. She had obviously learned how to suck
cock quite expertly.

	She took her mouth off it and rubbed it across her face again,
softly sighing. She kissed the head, then sucked, opening her lips a
bit, then a bit more, sucking in the head, then, keeping the hole in
her mouth small, she pressed down and his cock forced its way into her
mouth.

	Yes, she was quite good at this. He wondered if she knew how
to deep throat. She would before he was done with her.

	He felt his cock sparkling with tension and knew he was about
to cum. No doubt she would swallow it. He didn't intend to allow her
that victory. He gripped her hair suddenly, very tightly. She gave a
gasp of pain but made no attempt to pull his hand free.

	He began jerking her head up and down on his cock, forcing her
down far, then pulling her back up, leaving no doubt in her mind who
was in control here. As he felt his cum begin he jerked her head back,
pulling her lips off his mouth, replacing them with her fist.

	His hand was over hers, squeezing it down on his cock as
he/she pumped the cock once, twice, three times, four... then he came,
his sperm jetting out the tip and smacking into her forehead. She
gasped and tried to pull away but he held both her hand and her head
in place.

	Wad after wad shot out and splatted against her face,
dribbling down her nose and cheeks and off her lips. He gave a sigh
finally, the first sound he had made, and pulled her face forward,
jerking her hand off his cock. He rubbed his cock all over her face,
rubbing his sperm into her pores, coating every inch from forehead to
chin with his juice.

	Then he flung her back. She fell back on her back on the floor
and gasped in shock, staring up at him with wide eyes. He allowed
himself a brief, cold smile.

	"Not bad," he said. "But I've seen better."

	She flushed, fighting down an angry retort. He knew he'd
wounded her pride by his behaviour and his words both, but she was
saying nothing.

	"Let's see what you have under those expensive clothes,
Gardner," he said. "Strip."

	She swallowed again, eyeing him carefully, as though just then
realizing how dangerous a game she was playing. Backing out now would
be worse than not having come in at all. She would be finished, and
she knew it. She slowly stood up, trying to hold onto whatever dignity
she imagined she had left.

	She removed her jacket, and placed it carefully on the
Chesterfield. Her hands shook a bit as they worked the zipper on her
short skirt. No doubt she was fighting to keep from rubbing at her
face, which was glistened with the still wet cum.

	She slid the skirt down her long legs, giving her hips a
little bit of a shimmy as she did so, and stepping gracefully out of
it. She threw it on the couch with her jacket, then unbuttoned her
shirt. As he'd suspected, she had a black bra beneath, and tiny string
bikini panties with a matching garter belt.

	She stood there proudly for a moment, apparently regaining
some of her conceit and pride. She slid her hands up and down her
body, sliding her tongue over her lower lip as she looked at him
through slit eyes again.

	He almost laughed. She no doubt thought that was sexy. She
still didn't realize it was the power that excited him, the power over
her mind and body both.

	She slid her hands up and through her hair, posing, then
turned, showing him that instead of panties she wore a G-string. She
turned her side to him, raising one straight leg and putting it on the
couch as she reached down and slid to remove the high heeled show.

	She did it slowly, posing carefully, then slid down the garter
as well, and finally, rolled down the stocking. She turned and smiled
flirtatiously at him, then raised her other foot and repeated the
process. She put the foot back and turned to him, undoing the garter
belt and removing that as well.

	He could tell that she was again confused. She hadn't expected
to have to strip completely. No doubt she'd expected a quicky on the
couch, perhaps with her skirt off and her blouse and bra open. But
that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted her utterly, every part of her,
and he wanted her to know that she was his to do with as he chose.

	With only a little hesitation, she reached back and undid her
lacy black bra, then removed it and put it on the couch with the rest.
She gave him an inquiring look, as if to ask if she needed to remove
the G-string. He raised his eyebrows and she bent forward, sliding the
small scrap down her legs and stepping out of it.

	She dropped them on the couch and straightened, now looking
somewhat uncomfortable. She glanced at the door once, and though she
tried to keep her composure he knew she was somewhat worried about
what was going on. All she'd had from him so far was silence.

	He smiled inwardly, watching her squirm. He made her stand
still for a full minute before he raised his hand and extended one
finger, then twirled it slowly. She swallowed again, then turned
around, showing him her behind.

	"Spread your legs, Gardner," he said.

	She spread them apart a foot.

	"More, wide," he barked. She spread them wide apart. He
smiled, wondering what expression was on her face now.

	"Bend over and grip your ankles," he told her.

	Her body stiffened, and trembled slightly, as if she were
undergoing an internal fight, but then she slowly bent forward,
bending far down and gripping her ankles with her hands. She looked
back at him between her own legs, pretending to smile. Her face, he
noted, was flushed.

	His eyes shifted from her face, up to her ass and crotch. Her
pussy hair was brown, he noted. He sat unmoving for long seconds, then
reached behind his head and scratched himself. He saw her face flush
an even deeper red.

	He kept her like that another minute.

	"All right," he said. "Stand up and turn around."

	She did so gladly, sighing as she turned, but still trying to
look dignified. He would put a stop to that. He intended to use her,
but he intended to break her first. He would so thoroughly humiliate
her that she wouldn't think of crossing his will. Only then would he
be able to trust her... to a degree.

	"Sit down, Miss Gardner," he offered solicitously, indicating
the chair in front of his desk. Now looking confused, she padded
across the thick carpet and sat uneasily in one of the chairs.

	Not going as you'd planned. Is it my dear?

	He smiled coldly.

	"So you want to work for me, do you, Gardner?"

	"Yes, sir," she said quietly.

	"You'd like to share in my power, wouldn't you? You'd like me
to help you into the partners lounge, hmmmm?" She regained enough of
her composure to cross her legs and give him one of those slit eyed
looks.

	"What do you want, Mister Connors?" she purred.

	"For one thing you can open your legs again." Again she
looked surprised, and her face flushed a bit. She opened her legs
again.

	"Wider, put them up on the arms of the chair."

	She spread her legs, lifting her feet off the floor and
dropping her legs across the two arms of the chair. Again her face
showed signs of discomfort and worry.

	You'll have to learn to control your face better, Gardner, he
thought. Drop a point.

	"Much better," he smiled thinly.

	He stared at her for a few seconds, then sat back in his chair
and put his hands behind his head.

	"Let me see you masturbate, Gardner."

	"W'd really startled her.

	"Your vocabulary does not include the word?"

	"No. I mean, of course."

	"Then do it."

	"Wouldn't you rather... " She gave him a coy look. "help me?"
she completed.

	"Now, as always, I will tell you what to do and you will do
it."

	Now she was blushing furiously, and he could see her
desperately trying to figure a way out of this. No doubt she regretted
ever coming in here. One of the older partners would be so gratified
to fuck her he'd be in and out in five minutes. She probably wouldn't
even have to remove her skirt.

	"Let's see it, Gardner. Let's see how passionate you can be
with the one you love."

	For a moment she seemed to think he meant himself, but then
she scowled, just for a brief second, realizing he meant her, that she
loved herself.

	Then, defiantly, tilting her head to one side, she slid her
hands onto her breasts and began to knead them. Her fingers mashed and
twisted the perfect round globes, then one hand slid down her belly
and in between her legs. She rubbed herself, her finger parting her
cunt lips and sliding up and down the cleft.

	She let her head fall backwards, slumping down a little more
in the chair, stroking her slit carefully as her other hand caressed
her breasts. She lifted her hand to her mouth and slid a finger into
it, then sucked on it, giving him her sexy look again. Then she slid
the finger against her cunt and wriggled it inside.

	She pumped the finger in and out of her cunt, rubbing her clit
with her thumb.

	She kept looking up to him, starting to get flustered as he
stared without reaction or expression. No doubt the thought had
occurred to her now that she was doing nothing but humiliating herself
before him and that as soon as she was done he would simply fire her.

	He was doing his best to look bored, but it was a good thing
she couldn't see his crotch, where his cock stuck out straight and
hard. He wanted her uncomfortable. He wanted her embarrassed. He
wanted her to lose her composure, her confidence.

	She added a second finger to her snatch, pumping them harder
and deeper, rolling her head now as she moaned and sighed and
whimpered. Her ass ground down into the chair and her crotch humped
against her fingers, not energetically, that would have been too much,
just a little, just enough to convince some idiot man that she was
really getting off.

	He pulled one hand from behind his head and glanced at his
watch. He saw out of the corner of his eye that she broke her
carefully maintained look of bliss. He looked back at her, the same
bored look on his face, and she quickly shifted her features back into
those of pleasure.

	She pumped more erratically with her fingers though, and her
hand squeezed her tits, mashing the flesh rather than stroking it
erotically. Her skin was red and she was breathing hard and sweating,
but it had nothing to do with excitement. She was now more convinced
that he was merely humiliating her, probably so he could tell everyone
about it later.

	She had no idea what to do though, so she kept on
masturbating, her motions not smooth, but jerky and graceless as she
trembled, both with fear and embarrassment. He yawned, then looked out
the window.

	When he turned back she had stopped. She took her fingers out
of her cunt and slowly sat up, pulling her legs off the chair arms,
then standing up. She stood straight, her face angry, tight lipped.
She turned towards her clothes and he allowed himself a smile.

	He reached into his desk and pulled out a key, then tossed it
onto the couch. It landed atop her skirt. She looked at it, then
turned and looked at him.

	"That's the key to sixty-eight-twenty-nine." She stared at
it, then reached down and touched it, as if it might fade away. She
trembled visibly, then straightened and turned towards him again.

	"No. I'm not going to fire you, Ms. Gardner," he smiled
thinly. "Not yet at any rate. I may... may have some use for you."

	"Come here," he ordered.

	She stepped forward, her face still pale. He stood, slowly,
languorously, moving beside her. She did not meet his eyes as he
looked up and down her nude body. Then he grabbed her hair suddenly,
jerking her up and back. She gave a cry of pain as he tore her hair
and her hands scrabbled behind her head for his wrist.

	He held her there like that for a few moments, until she
stopped struggling and lowered her arms. She was trembling again, her
eyes wide, obviously frightened.

	"Yes, I think someone like you could have innumerable uses,"
he grinned. "Including the obvious."

	He slid his hand onto her belly, then, holding her firmly by
the hair, her back arched, chest pushed out, he stroked her soft
flesh, his hand sliding under her breasts, then in between then around
them, before finally sliding onto the firm rounded mounds and
squeezing.

	He pulled his hand back, then jammed it between her spread
legs, gripping her pubic mound in a grip of steel, making her cry out
again as pain clawed at her.

	"You remember this, darling," he said, his face, but not his
eyes smiling. "You remember just who is in command, just who gives the
orders and who takes them. If you cross me I'll see that the only job
left for you is fucking winos in dark alleys."

	He jerked her forward suddenly, forcing her down onto her
knees. He let go of her hair and dropped behind her, gripping her legs
and jerking them wide with a sudden savage motion. He pulled out his
cock and pushed it against her slit, then pushed it inward.

	He forced several inches of cock meat into the young blonde,
then gripped her hips tightly and thrust hard. She cried out for a
third time, then moaned weakly. He forced his cock into her all in to
the balls, then began to immediately hump against her.

	He held her tightly, and rode her with violent movements that
he knew hurt her, wanting to hurt her, wanting the thrill of knowing
she would not protest, could not protest, could do nothing but what he
ordered, could only accept whatever he gave her.

	His cock pounded down into her as he jerked her slender body
to and fro. His hips crushed her buttocks repeatedly as he skewered
her with his thick meat. He was going to leave bruises on her that she
would remember for some time, remember when she considered double
crossing him.

	She winced and grunted and gasped from time to time but knelt
there like a she bitch being ridden by the pack leader. That was the
image that sprang to his mind and it drove him into deeper waves of
lust and violence. It was not the tight sucking motion of her cunt
against his prick that aroused him so, but the possession and mastery
of Gardner.

	He knew her pride. He'd seen it often in others of her
calibre, knew it and relished its destruction, revelled in riding her
like a slut, like a dog, knowing how degraded she felt, down on all
fours being ridden so savagely.

	If she thought that she could ever again be respected by him
now that he had fucked her on all fours, now that he had rutted his
cock into her fuck box and watched her asshole opening and closing,
she would have to be demented.

	He gripped her hair again, jerking her head up and back as his
hips beat a vicious tattoo against her softly rounded buttocks. He
gripped her hair and twisted her head to one side, mashing his lips
down against her throat. She whimpered in pain and fear.

	He laughed, throwing an even more powerful series of thrusts
into the blonde's cunt. His prick was spearing her with the most
violent thrusts he was capable of, and still she did not dare protest.
He shoved her head away from him, gripped the back of her head and
shoved her face down against the rug, jerking her ass up with the
other hand.

	He laughed again, a cold, sneering laugh as he rode her to a
powerful orgasmic explosion, his steaming jizm spewing down into her
fuck tunnel to slosh around in her belly like hot porridge. He grunted
a few times in pleasure, then pulled out with a sigh.

	He gripped her hair again, pulling her face around to his n.
He rubbed his cock through her hair, wiping off his cum, then stood
and pulled did his pants up. He went to a mirror in the corner and
brushed his hair, not looking at her.

	"That will be all Gardner," he said in a dismissive tone.

	Kayla knelt there for long seconds, panting for breath, then
slowly she rose, her legs rubbery. As if in a dream she dressed, not
able to look at him as he passed her by and went back to his desk. He
began to hum as he picked up a pen and started writing, and didn't
look up as she walked out of the room, key clutched tightly in her
hand.